Euchre
by Quote-da-Raven
Summary: "If I'm going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice!" -J
1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer:I do not own the creation of The Joker. Nor any other DC, or Nolanverse related characters or themes. I do however own my original characters and plot, which isn't much, but I make an attempt._**

_Authors Note:_ **_Euchre_** _/ˈjuckər/ or eucre is a trick-taking card game most commonly played with four people in two partnerships with a deck of 24, or sometimes 32, standard playing cards. It is the game responsible for introducing the joker into modern packs; this was invented around 1860 to act as a top trump card or best bower (from the German word Bauer, "farmer", denoting also the Jack)._

Chapter 1

Ella was responsible for a crucial task in the aftermath of countless violent deaths, in which Gotham city had plenty . . . The cleanup. The Gotham PD, fire department and the crime scene investigators were, as a general rule, not responsible for the tidying up process of a deceased. That particular task fell to the family or friends of the victim, which was then appointed to her.

Perry, an elderly gentleman, who had adopted her out of empty nest syndrome and amplified by the death of his high school sweetheart of thirty-nine years, had started the business. And became Gotham's first CTS Decon-uni - crime and trauma scene decontamination unit. In Gotham city such an occupation was guaranteed job security. Perry had launched the business back when he was only the tender age of sixteen. Two years after he had vacated his childhood home. He had capitalized on his little business venture, and at one time had thirteen people working under him, stationed out of two separate locations. This had afforded him the purchase of his home which now sat in Gotham Estates. After Perry's death the business had fallen to her to. But at nineteen with no college, or business knowledge, her management skills were less than sufficient. Now a little over six months later she remained the sole employee to Perry's legacy, working from home.

The home that Perry had managed to secure for her before his death, while in its prime a spectacular sight, now paled in comparison to newly manufactured homes with their well-manicured lawns, perfect trim and two door garages. Her home was out of place. The salmon colored paint and yellow trim were peeling slightly, similar in appearance to river birch tree bark. The roof was covered in a thin layer of moss only to continue in accumulation because of the exhaustion her job produced, leaving little room for mundane concerns. The windows were dingy despite her constant attempts with Windex, and the seals around them were old, offering little protection from the outside elements. Ella didn't bother with yard work. And she saw the looks of disdain offered up by her neighbors because of this. They brought her delight.

She was used to their judgment had been for little over two years now. Ever since she had first become pregnant, at only sixteen, however her circumstances were not what those judgmental eyes had fabricated them out to be in their minds. Ella had not been some wild party girl, nor had she ever been one for loose morals. That was not to say she had never been naughty but her behavior had never been cause for serious alarm.

It had happened at party. Doesn't it always? A college party. Where else? To this day she was not even sure why she had gone. She had only been a sophomore, at Gotham High, at the time. An individual from her biology class, Allison, who fell somewhere between acquaintance and causal school friend had invited her to come out; apparently her older sister attended Gotham University-located a walks distance away from the Downtown finical District. Her sister was in her junior year of college at the university and they were having a mixer between two particular sororities and fraternities.

Ella did not drink. She was probably considered a square by high school standards, she knew, everyone else knew it. And she did not care. But that night she succumbed to the peer pressure and drank way more than she ought to, especially for her first time. She also had, had little experience with boys, especially older ones who were seasoned drinkers.

She went to the clinic fifteen times. Each time she sat in the waiting room, anxiously awaiting her name to be called as she gazed at the other accidental mothers to be, who avoided eye contact and concealed their barely developed stomachs with baggy clothes and filling out paper work with shaky hands. Fifteen times she left before ever seeing anything but the inside of that waiting room.

At two and a half, Jax sat upright on his own, preached upon the worn rug. The rug offered a small square of cushioning in the living room, atop the old hardwood flooring. He played with his favorite toy, a jack-in-the box. The toy never failed to cause him to jump back in alarm, wide eyed, as it sprang from its little container only to then make him grin in delight as he giggled along with the toys mechanical laughter.

Ella prepped for work as she waited for the babysitter. She packed her personal protective gear, a non-porous, one-time-use suit and gloves. The majority of her gear such as the filtered respirators and chemical-spill boots. The biohazard waste containers – that were the approved 55-gallons, heavy duty bags and sealed hard-plastic containers. And other traditional cleaning supplies such as- Mops, buckets, spray bottles, sponges and steel brushes. Hospital-grade disinfectants (bleach, hydrogen peroxide), Industrial-strength deodorizers, Enzyme solvents (to kill bacteria and viruses and liquefy dried blood), A no-touch cleaning system (to clean blood-coated surfaces from a safe distance - includes heavy-duty sprayer, long scrubbing brush, wet vacuum). Putty knives (to scrape up brain matter, which dried into a cement-like consistency), Razor blades (to remove portions of unsalvageable carpet) and Shovels (in about two hours, large amounts of blood coagulate into a Jell-O-like goo that can be shoveled into heavy duty bags) she left in the van so Jax would not stumble upon it.

She was just finishing packing her gloves as a knock resounded on her front door. She moved to let the sitter in. And was stunned to find it was not Matilda from four houses down and across the street, but rather a man, and an attractive one at that. She couldn't hide the astonishment from her face. Perhaps if she had more visitors, besides the 12 year old girl who she paid to watch her son, then she would not be half as surprised. Although, even if she did get male visitors regularly, they would still have to be attractive in order to diminish her natural shock response, and that thought just seemed unfathomable for a moment. So she stood captivated for a moment until suspicion began to set in. She was a suspicious person by nature. Everyone had an agenda after all.

He was dressed impeccably well, in a fitted suit; his dirty blonde hair was lightly tousled and curled ever so slightly falling into his eyes, and coiling around his ears. Hypnotic dark green eyes, ringed with yellow were set above high cheek bones accompanied with a straight nose, full lips and an impeccable jaw line. The only arguable imperfection on his face was a small Y-shaped scar situated below his bottom lip. His skin was lightly tanned, odd for a native of Gotham, where the sun rarely broke through the blanket of overcast clouds. Judging by his attire though he had the means of taking vacations to the types of places that would grace one with such color. The sun-kissed tan caused the scar to stand out ever so slightly, drawing her eyes to it. If he noticed her lingering gaze he pretended not to. The man was incredibly tall he had to be close to 6' 4", with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, his limbs were lanky amplifying his height, and making him appear even taller.

Ella felt her eyes narrow in response to these traits. This was the look a man whom served up subpoenas. Luckily he was not carrying anything. She raked her brain for potential missed payments anyways. The Gotham National Bank had been waiting for her, and Perry when he was alive, to make a blunder with the business or house bills, ever since they had discovered Gotham Estates was quickly becoming a desired location. The property that her little dilapidated house sat upon was worth half a million dollars. This was due to Gotham's residents growing demanding to move out of the inner city, which was high in crime rate, and into a somewhat safer location in the suburbs. When Perry had first purchased the property out here it had hardly been developed at all and was similar in nature to the now Cranston Estates.

He spoke first. "Hello," his voice was oddly soothing despite a slight accent she could not place. Or maybe it was just the way he rolled the word around in his mouth as he spoke it.

She still did not respond suspicion dictating her response. He carried on. "I am moving in next door but it appears," he motioned behind himself. "The movers are not here yet, and like everyone else I am a slave to the technological age, but it seems unlike everyone else I have failed to plan ahead. I really am a terrible planner." He held a thin flat device up, with a dark screen. He offered a huge toothy grin matching in shade to the whites of his eyes. But what her eyes were drawn to were the adorable dimples on either cheek turning his indefinitely manly face into a boyish one.

"Packed the charger away." He shrugged bashfully. "Do you mind if I use your landline? It is not long distance. Just need to let the work know a few minor details." He winked, the corner of his mouth creeping up in a small smirk, the dimple threatening to reappear. The look could only be described as devious, despite the blandness of the request. His eyes were playful, a natural born flirt.

He continued on undeterred by her silence. "You ask for three days off. For the first time ever, mind you." His voiced rose in pitch from the absurdity or the statement, before dropping back to its normal purr to continue, "In order to move, and the workplace goes to shambles."

She wanted to ask if this phone call was in regards to the potential repossession of her business or home.

But he offered up a response before she could beat him to the punch line. "I work over at The Ace Chemical Processing Plant. And one would hope that the people handling our dangerous chemicals, nuclear waste, and toxic gasses were competent at the decision making process on their own, however, the sad fact of the matter is good help is so hard to find."

With the impending threat that he was with some collection agency neutralized, Ella once again went back to admiring the man's attractive nature. 'The Processing Plant, huh?' She thought to herself no wonder he was so dapper, the personnel there made good money. And depending on his clearance level he could be potentially making six figures. But wasn't the Ace Chemical Plant located in the Narrows? What was a man like this doing over there? She pushed her gold digging thoughts, and the oddity of the man's work situation aside, and receded back into the house to indicate her approval of the use of her phone.

"Go ahead. It's in the kitchen." She nodded behind herself towards the small room set off from the living room.

The kitchens petite size was dwarfed by an old mahogany table made to seat six. The cabinets were a whitewash with basic hardware serving as handles. The half fridge sat in between the stove and the little pantry. An old fashioned icebox served as the freezer was located next to a shabby high-chair. The floors were stripped up to the cement. An unfinished project Perry had undergone, in an attempt to add face value to the house with tiled floors, before his death.

As she watched the man disappear around the corner to retrieve the phone from the counter she was suddenly aware of the stark contrast between his posh exterior and her humble interior. She tried to dismiss dwelling on the sudden pang of embarrassment by scooping Jax off the floor to preoccupy oneself with. He put up a slight struggle, troubled that he had been pulled away from his toy, but eventually conceded to her grasp. He leaned into her wrapping his little fingers around the ends of her long dark brown hair, and sucking diligently on his other thumb. His eyes were red and glossy, he needed a nap. Where was the sitter? She heard the murmurs from the kitchen fall silent followed by the clank of the receiver being placed back down.

The man emerged from her kitchen all smiles. "Thank you, darling," The informalness of the remark caught her off guard. It was at odds with his appearance. He must have realized this because immediately he corrected himself. "I don't believe I have properly introduced myself. I am Jackson Napier. Or just Jack." He stepped forward slightly and extended his hand. Ella shifted Jax to her left hip so she could return the gesture. His hand encompassed hers, almost double in size. They were incredibly warm and had a roughness about them that indicated he worked with his hands, a lot. An engineer at the Processing Plant, maybe? Suddenly she was put at ease about the condition of her own hands. Ella's hands were nicked and bruised from her job; always dry and flakey from repeated washings and over exposure to hospital grade sanitizers.

"Ella." Was all she responded, she generally was not one for excessive speech, especially not with attractive male strangers, she wanted to say something charming and witty but generally fell short. She was much more versed in the art of sarcasm.

"And who might this little future heartbreaker be?" Jack bent at the waist so he could be closer to eye level with her son, reaching an affectionate hand forward he gave Jax's chubby little leg a tiny squeeze. Jax in response turned away shyly and buried his face into Ella's chest. He didn't have much experience with men, other than Perry, and it had been almost seven months since his death.

"He's shy," she did not know why but she felt the urge to explain Jax's behavior. Perhaps a social norm, as not to risk Jack getting his feelings hurt, by being under the impression that her son did not like him.

"Can you say hi, Jax?" She spoke to her son and gave him a soft bounce on her hip for encouragement. Jack smiled at him trying to boost the reassurance of the situation. But Jax remained impassive except for the tiny side glances he snuck at the man before rolling his head back into her chest.

"He's not used to men," she mentally chided herself for her accidental admittance of the absences of a male partner in her life.

"Well," Jack said straightening up in acceptance of Jax's disregarded. "Women are easier on the eyes, so who can blame him." He gave her a spirited wink. But Ella knew better than to take the gesture to seriously. She was fast deciding that Jack Napier meant little by his flirtatious words, inviting smiles and suggestive gesticulations. They were more an instinctive response than premeditated behavior.

He nodded to the bags behind her. Two large, orange, no pierce proof hefty bags with the words bio hazardous slapped across them, stuffed full of her suit, gloves, more of the same bags and papers towels. The rest of her supplies eagerly awaiting her in the van for a day full of labor.

He cocked a golden eyebrow, "A little bit of late spring cleaning?" It was mid-August in Gotham. A small amused smirk played across his lips. She could only imagine the oddity of seeing such paraphernalia in someone else's home.

"You're welcome."

He blinked slightly confused at the sudden change of conversation. "For what?"

"For the unsolvable abrupt disappearance of your residences previous owner; resulting in an immediate vacancy for you."

A silence settled over the room and for a brief second Ella regretted, as usual, her homicide references used in jest- which are almost deemed almost as socially inappropriate as a suicide joke. Then when she thought she would perish from mortification. Unexpectedly Jack threw his head back with laughter his eyes crinkling up, his mouth wide, eyebrows knitted together in amusement. His laughter was hearty and washed over her in wave. She could not help but smile.

Jax's head snapped up and his eyes dared to rest on the stranger for the first time, suddenly enthralled by the sound. After several more long seconds Jack's laughter died away and he returned to his normal state his eyes slightly teary.

"You're a witty one Ella." He nodded back to the bags, "Is that also why your son's not used to man?" He shot back, implying the potential murder of several previous boyfriends. He wiped at his eyes with the backs of his hands. And Ella fought back the swell of pride she felt at being deemed clever. She was in the middle of calculating an adept response to defend herself, when a voice wafted into the living room.

"What's so funny over here?" A partial knock was given as the lady behind the voice stepped into the doorframe of the forgotten ajar front door. She was tall and leggy, pushing 5' 11", not including her skyscraper heels, with a model thin body and obviously fake boobs. Her skin was bronzed; however it was obviously not natural, unlike Ella whose skin tone held a natural caramel complexion due to her Armenian heritage. The woman's hair was cut into an inverted bob with bangs, expertly highlighted and low lighted which set off her natural auburn base color. She studied the situation with her heavily mascara coated eyes, the vibrancy of her blue eyes popped out against the palate of colors plastered on her eyelids.

"Aye sweetheart." Jack fixed his attention on the newcomer. Ella's eyes instinctively flashed to Jack's left hand. She could not help but slightly revel in the fact it was bare. Not that she thought he would honestly be interested in her. She was only a squandering nineteen year old and he had to be at least twenty-four and clearly established in his life. But it was still fun to entertain such notions.

"Just speaking with our new neighbors, they were kind enough to let me use their phone." He sauntered over to woman and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Darcie," he addressed the stranger. "This is Ella and Jax," he snaked his arm around, who could only be Darcie's, waist and outstretched his palm towards Ella and Jax as if he were modeling the two. "Ella and Jax, this is Darcie." He gave the woman a quick squeeze. Ella found it kind of oddly endearing that Jack introduced Darcie to both her and Jax. Most of the time people dismiss children as an onlooker, incapable of "adult" communication. When in actuality she spoke to Jax more than anyone else.

"Nice to meet you." Ella offered up with what she hoped was a heartfelt smile. Despite her obvious jealousy of the woman before her, Ella was able to recognize it, and make an honest attempt at a sincere greeting.

"Same." Darcie replied almost too casually, as if she were forcing it. But she did not fool Ella. Ella was used to the judgment that tried to lay dormant behind Darcie's heavily made-up eyes. Ella was all too familiar with the effort it took Darcie not to look back and forth between her and Jax. The disproving gaze intended for a girl she obviously thought had made horrid life decisions and wound up pregnant to young. Darcie thought her a woman of the night; she had already come to that conclusion in her perfectly highlighted little head. And she would not tolerate any interaction between her and Jack, of that Ella was certain.

"Well the moving vans here and we've been waiting outside for you for the last ten minutes." She looked irritated at this revelation and shifted on his arm so she could look him in the eye. Even in four inch heels plus her immense height she did not stand taller than Jack. Her pretty features contorted into agitation, she reminded Ella of the type of girl who didn't smile often. In which Ella found hilarity in, because Jack didn't strike her as the type that frowned very often.

"Not ten minutes," Jack drew his hands up to his face in mock horror allowing a theatrical gasp to escape is pouty lips. "Surely it couldn't have been that long! Please can you forgive my callousness?" He clasped one of her manicured hands to his chest, and gave her the most skilled set of puppy dog eyes. Ella attempted to conceal the amusement from her face. And instead shifted Jax over to her other hip, again, her arms were beginning to become tired. He wasn't as small as he used to be.

The woman in Ella's doorway was not amused nor swayed by the puppy dog eyes that were intended for her. "Come on Jackson, the van is rented by the hour." And with that she spun on her heels and retreated from sight. Ella could hear the click of Darcie's heels down her old cobblestone drive.

"She's normally more vivacious. She's been under a lot of stress at work; she works for Gotham Times, deadlines to meet." Now it was Jack's turn to feel the unnecessary urge to explain as third party's behavior, in attempts to spare hurt feelings. "Perhaps a barbeque when we've settled in?" He suggested.

Ella shrugged, "Sure." In all honesty she did not really expect them to be sitting around grilling steaks, and engaging in idle chit chat. It was the sort of rhetorical invitation that new neighbors were required to extend to existing residents. But oh well. It was a nice attempt at neighborliness. And with that final exchange Jack flashed her one last brilliant smile, complete with dimples, and retreated from her house in thanks. She grudgingly looked over at the orange bags. It could be put off no longer Gotham City needed her sterilization abilities.

_Authors Note:_ Feel free to leave criticism. I do not really write all that often. But I have decided I need a distraction from things that are out of my control in my daily life. So I have receded to the confines of a fictional world to cope. Haha . . . But I would love feedback. Oh, and I am sure you've figured out by now that this is a Joker transformation fic. I will try not to mutilate him. But he will be slightly out of character until he becomes The Joker, obviously. He will hopeful be a mesh of the comic book Joker, from the Killing Joker era, and the Nolanverse Dark Knight concept. But the story will be listed in the movies: Batman Begins/Dark Knight category verses the comic section, because I will be referencing the movies in future chapters. And please if anyone sees any glaring mistakes in grammar definitely point them out. I try really hard! But grammatical exactness is a concept that escapes me sometimes, and I realize how frustrating that could be for someone who is accomplished at sentence structure. Thank you 3 And I hope you enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**IMPORTANT NOTIFICATION! **It has just been brought to my attention after editing chapter two, and half way thru three. That Heath Ledger had a daughter and her name is Matilda! The Matilda in this fan fiction DOES NOT and is not in any way, shape or form modeled after his daughter. I was not even aware of this until I was reading an article on him, and his sudden death after his role as The Joker, and she was mentioned. The Matilda in my story was taken from the 1996 movie Matilda. Which I used to watch as a kid all the time, and loved, watch if you haven't seen. I adore the name and the character is actually modeled after me as a child. So just for clarification I will be posting this note at the beginning of any chapter that Matilda appears in, is mentioned in, and I will have it on my profile as well. I would just change the name but I am already 29 pages in. In which she appears frequently. And I really think the name fits. I just wanted to be sure everyone was aware there is absolutely NO CORRELATION between the two. That would just be weird. It just happens to be a really freaky conquincidence! Thank you for your understanding.

**Chapter 2**

You never knew what you were going to get when you walked on to a site. Unlike most jobs you do not get a nice little annotation of the occurrence. If she did it would probably read something similar to: double homicide with suspected third party suicide. Third party under investigation of murder in the first degree with a machete before taking shot gun to oneself. When she got there the bodies had already been removed the evidence tagged, bagged and extradited. She peeled away the yellow crime scene tape, and adorned in her gear she entered.

The stench penetrated even the bio-mask. The putrid smell of old blood, they say blood does not smell. They have never shoveled two and a half bags full of the life's elixir off a white and black linoleum floor. Or maybe they are right. And her mind fabricated the odor out of the overwhelming numbness the scene produced. Because what would be worse, the horrific scent of murder and the looming consciousness of death? Or the complete voidance of any consequences, merely a room covered in thick patches of red Jell-o, and the dark smears of handprints and shoe scuffs littering the cabinets, walls, tile and carpet.

She looked around. Over the years Ella had gotten pretty darn good at conjecturing the events that had transpired. It had actually become a strange perverse game in a way. She would predict her opinion of the events that had transpired, and then she would casually check into the Gotham News from time to time to see how her calculations were fairing. Most the time she was scarily accurate. She was even beginning to become well versed at the potential murder weapon. She liked to fancy herself a detective or a blood spatter analyst. Two occupations she would probably excel at if she ever got sick of cleaning up after corpses. However, at a going rate of $650 an hour and a crime scene clean-up taking anywhere from one to four hours to complete, she did not foresee a potential occupational change in her future. Anyways her level of education limited her choices. So it was this or fast food.

The initial struggle seemed to originate in the kitchen, that being where the primary amount of blood was. After that the victim appeared to have attempted to scamper across the kitchen using the cabinets as leverage. They made it down the short distance of the hallway and into the small living room. The tracks ended in another considerably smaller pool of blood. The first victim seemed to either be a woman or an adolescent based on their footsteps. It was around this time that a third party entered the mix. Probably entering in through the kitchen's back door, witnessing the mess in the kitchen they raced down the hallway to be greeted by the sight of the first victim being finished off. A scuffle then ensued between the new arrival and the perpetrator resulting in a brawl that smashed the coffee table, knocked a lamp off a stand, and caused the plasma television to fall from its wall mount. The struggle ended in the far corner of the living room when the second victim, judging by the blood spatters against the wall, appeared to have been bludgeoned to death by a heavy object. Then, who Ella could only assume was the offender, appeared to have made their way over to the couch and taken .615 caliber 20 gauge shotgun and blown their head off. Because judging by the ceiling and wall behind the sofa, that was definitely brain matter.

Ella's final deduction, the woman who inhabited the house had been having an affair with the neighbor. When her husband found out, he attacked her with knife. The neighbor heard the brawl entered in through the back door, in which he had a key to, so he could let himself in on nights her husband was away. The husband had not suspected the neighbors intrusion, hence the encounter in the living room resulting in the improvised murder weapon. The suicide had, however, been planned. And after the husband had dealt with the unexpected entry of the third party he continued with the execution his plan. The whole ordeal lasted no longer then eighteen minutes.

The sun was setting in the sky as Ella vigorously scraped away at the brain matter. She disliked being on a job site when night fell. The darkness added a heightened sense of malevolence to an already eerie scene. By the time she reloaded the van, separately bagged all the contaminated and non-contaminated items, stripped from her suit and did a solid once over of the house to make sure she had not missed anything, it was nightfall. Exhausted she pulled herself up into the driver's seat pulled the door shut with a heavy metal thud, and turned over the engine. She was about forty-five minutes from home and still needed to swing by the warehouse to drop off the bags. Estimated arrival time was after midnight.

When she pulled into the familiar desolate parking lot of the storehouse, the brights of her van flashed over the bio-hazard warning sign that was plastered to the giant steel door. The night air was muggy as she hopped out of the van made her way around to back, giving an extra hard tug on the rustic doors to open them. It was mandatory to store the bio-hazardous waste in a clearly marked safe facility until the Gotham's Stericycle could complete a pick—up. They were a slightly pricy company and Ella could do the disposal herself. But she would rather pay someone else the extra to get the job done right; and take the remains, then potentially worry of an improper disposal, which resulted in serious repercussions.

She trotted over to the steel door and unlocked the two large deadbolts situated on either side. With some effort she forced the door upwards, the grinding sound of metal-on-metal deafeningly loud in the silence of the night. The interior was pitch-black and she entered undeterred. She felt around for the light switch her hands falling to rest on it almost immediately. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the newfound light source. She blinked attempting the clear the dark spots from her vision, with little success. When her sight finally adjusted she looked around. Everything was exactly how she had left it. In haste she pulled on gloves, and dragged the bags inside along with the equipment that need to be thoroughly cleaned. She would take care of that tomorrow. Tonight she wanted nothing more than a lukewarm shower, to see Jax and curl up in bed to watch her favorite television series.

Just as she had estimated she arrived home well into midnight. All the lights in the adjacent houses were off. The only light that stemmed from Gotham Heights poured from streetlamps, porch lights and of course her kitchen window. The ghastly glow of the living room television casted dancing blue shadows through her kitchen window, as Matilda awaited her return, fast asleep.

Ella pulled to a halt. Relief rushed through her as she looked down the small trail that led to her humble home. She dragged herself up the pathway, briefly distracted by an alternate light source that emanated from an unusual point of origin. Ella's eyes were drawn to the partial basement window, which gave the only hint, that her new neighbor Jack's home was two levels. She dismissed any oddity of it. It was their first night. They were more than likely still unpacking. Or fucking. The latter caused her to scowl despite herself.

She pushed the door open quietly, not wanting to startle Matilda. Instinctually she went to check on Jax first. He was sprawled out, covers kicked off and breathing shallowly. His face was peaceful. In the moonlight from the window he looked like a cherub. His dark hair untamed, thick dark lashes resting against plump cheeks. His pouty lips were parted slightly the air escaping them quickly. He got his lips from his dad. Or at least that's what Ella thought she remembered because she did not have voluptuous lips. The dominant feature on her face was her eyes. Huge and almond shaped they were the darkest shade of brown, with long lashes and a small mole below her right eye. Despite being tan she had a fair amount of freckles on her face. Something she had despised as a youth but was beginning to come to terms with. She hoped Jax would get a few freckles, she always thought he would look adorable with them. With her tension soothed, by the reassurance of Jax's security, she made her way into the living room to rouse Matilda. Ella switched off the television and gently shook the preteen.

"Matilda. I am home." She tucked the girl's blonde hair behind her ear, silently disagreeing with the amount of ear piercings residing there. "You can go home now." It took a few more moments of encouragement before Matilda began to stir. Ella stood from the couch and allowed Matilda to rub the sleep from her eyes and become reacquainted with reality. She walked over to her purse and removed two twenties. Matilda took this as her cue to rise from the couch.

"Did everything go okay tonight?" Ella inquired.

"Yeah," she responded. "Jax was great, like usual. The only thing that was odd was your new neighbor came by asking about you."

"Did he?!" Ella could not keep the surprise from her voice and the partial delight from her face.

Matilda smirked. "Nah, not really, but he's a cutie isn't he? I watched him move in all day. How old you think he is?"

"You're such a brat!" Ella scolded. "And too old for you!"

Ella viewed Matilda like a little sister. The young girl had four older brothers who constantly teased her. She had grown up longing for a female sibling. And sometimes she would come over and spend time with Ella just because. Ella allowed it because she knew Matilda's desire to have a sister. Conversely growing up with four older brothers had made Matilda quite the sarcastic wild child. This was easily identifiable by her long matted blonde hair, wild blue eyes coated with thick black eye liner, an array of grunge band shirts, black zip-up hoodies, black nail polish and an incredible amount of ear and facial piercings for someone only twelve.

"My I.D. says I am sixteen." She shot back.

"And the law says you gotta be eighteen. So either invest in a new I.D. or wait the necessary amount of time." Ella packed Matilda's homework, which was strewn across the table, back into her backpack. Zipping it shut she held it out for the young girl. Matilda took it grudgingly.

"You need a ride home?" Ella offered.

"I might not be sixteen, but I am twelve, not four. I think I can manage to walk four houses down and across the street by myself. But don't worry I will be sure to look both ways twice. Anyways it's not like we live in the Narrows."

"Maybe you can just go ahead and get lost with that little attitude of yours, missy." Her tone was humorous. She held out the two twenties for Matilda, who snatched them away playfully.

"Night." Matilda slung a strap of bag over her shoulder. Ella stepped forward and gave her a brief squeeze; she recoiled slightly, not used to the outright show of affection.

"G' night my little smartass," she lightheartedly ruffled the youths hair. Matilda drew away from her grasp in aversion.

After Ella watched Matilda, unknowingly to her from the kitchen widow, make it safely back to her home. She went into the bathroom and peeled off her clothes. It was better than a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart, the minute the water hit her skin. After scrubbing herself clean she emerged from her bathroom, and scampered down the hall in only a towel causing goosebumps to rise all over her previously warm skin. Vigorously she toweled her head, dragged a brush trough her long hair and shimmied into a pair of her favorite pajamas. She axed the television idea and instead fell into the splendors of her bed.

Several months passed this way. She was extremely busy with work. Summer was the murder season. You would think it would be winter, when seasonal depression set in. But it wasn't. The answer to this is oddly simply, one would assume more complexity. It is summer because heat aggravates people and people aggravate situations. So Ella was more than appreciative when Fall finally came around and the temperature plummeted in October.

One Thursday evening, mid-October, she bundled up Jax in his big marshmallow coat, mittens, boots, and placed him in his stroller for some fresh air. The leaves were already changing and the big tree in her front yard was almost bare. Giving the illusion it had puked red, yellow and brown all over her front yard. Ella loved Fall. She adored everything about it, from the brisk breeze whipping against her cheeks warning about the on-set of winter, to the color palate nature underwent. She loved the pumpkin patch and corn maze, the crunch of the leaves under her feet, and seeing the associated Halloween items in supermarkets. She was so content to walk along basking in her delight that she almost did not hear the greeting directed at her.

She snapped to, her head spinning towards the source of the sound.

"Evening Els and Jax," Jack Napier stood outside, on his porch, dressed casually. Something she wasn't used to seeing. Despite the few times she had associated with him since he had moved in almost two months ago, he was always impeccably dressed, like the first day they had met. Usually he was adorned in tailored suits or nice slacks and dress shirts on casual Fridays. However tonight he wore a pair of dark washed denim blue jeans with a simple graphic-T, and thin black cardigan. His hair was windblown and marginally longer, she noted. He took a long drag off his cigarette before outing it on the railing. He strolled down the steps and quickly crossed the distance between them with his long strides. Despite being so tall something about him seemed incredibly agile.

She smiled, "Evening, how are you?" She had to crane her neck back to get a decent view of his face, he towered over her. And she was not short. She was almost 5'7".

"Just dandy, thanks for the inquiry. What about yourself and the little one?" He smiled affectionately down at Jax. Something about the sincerity of the way he looked at Jax made Ella think he wished to be a father.

"We're good." And for once it was not a staged response. She had honestly been feeling good lately. As for Jax, he had been a little fussy that morning, because he had a case of the sniffles. But she opted to give Jack the condensed version. She doubted he wanted to hear about her son's runny nose.

"That what I like to hear. I am glad I ran into you. I was going to come over eventually but I have been so busy with work and what-not." Now that he was up close she could see the fatigue etched into his well sculpted features. He slowly ran his tongue over the y-shaped scar, contemplating. "This Saturday were going to have a barbeque in the backyard." He motioned behind him with his head. "A couple of the guys from the Plant and their wives are gonna come, a few of the neighbors from two streets over and Darcie and her friends will be there. I hope you and Jax will come. And you're welcome to invite that little girl who babysits. I figure she spends enough time spying on my house I might as well just invite her in." He grinned, at this revelation, his dimples deep.

"She thinks you're cute." After a second Ella added, "But please don't tell her I told you." She felt a pang of betrayal selling her little friend down the river.

He continued to tongue over his lower lip working the Y-shaped scar, it was an immensely distracting habit. One that drew way to much attention to his mouth an area she didn't need extra emphasis to focus on. He drew his lip into his mouth, as if pondering this statement, even though she was one hundred percent sure he knew that piece of disclosure already.

"I am honestly flattered. Is my name doodled all over her notebook?" He inquired his eyes twinkled. Lit up as if he were smiling, despite his face was impassive.

"You were twelve once too." Ella reprimanded him despite her amused smirk.

"I was never twelve." He argued. "I was simply willed into existence. A woman asked God if there was such a thing as a prefect man, and there I was." He shrugged as if it was a known fact, his broad shoulders rising and settling back into place. She watched the movement. She observed a slight slouch as his shoulders fell back into place. Something she had not noticed initially. She wondered if this was due to the fact the he was so tall he was used to towering over others, so he attempted to amend the differences in heights.

She laughed out right. "You Jack Napier, have yourself a bit of an ego."

"Never," he responded coyly, his green eyes lit up. "Ego's aren't attractive, and being as how I am the epitome of attraction, that simply cannot be a valid hypothesis."

Ella tried to hide amusement by attempting to plaster a look of skepticism on her face. She loathed admitting that witty repartee and sarcasm was exceedingly stimulating to her. She found nothing more attractive than a man with a good sense of humor who was quick on his feet.

"Well then," she exaggeratedly looked him up and down. She paused for dramatic effect. "Does God take returns? Because you weren't what I had in mind."

It was Jack's turn to laugh. It was that same laugh she had heard the first day they met resonating up from his bowels. "What, you don't like what you see?" His enquiry was teasing, his voice laced with mock hurt. But it was also questioning. She had walked right into that.

Ella felt her cheeks flush in response. She had been ready to defend herself. Since she assumed he would only, naturally, react by cutting her down as well. But he had spun the tables. She wanted so badly to laugh it off and pretend like he had not fazed her. However she felt placed on the spot, exposed, and the worst part was she had to answer. Each moment that crept by without an answer only made for a more awkward situation.

Finally she decided, maybe she ought to just say she did like what she saw, when Jax let out a loud squeal of exasperation displeased by being overlooked for so long. She took the opportunity to overly indulge in her response to his outburst.

"Oh, stop it silly! You don't always need to be the center of attention." Despite chastising him, she stepped around the side of the stroller and knelt down, giving him all her attention. He shimmed in the buckle desperately wanting to get out.

"Out," he pouted.

"No. You don't need out." She shook her head and he growled, it turning into a screech, as he arched his back and pushed hard against the restraint. Immediately realizing the unlikeness at the success of this approach Jax preceded to thrash back-and-forth. "Hey, stop that. Here," she reached into the back of the stroller and grabbed his apple juice.

Jax spun his head away and plastered it against the other side of the stroller, refusing to look at her. "I don wan jufce!" His words slurred together.

"Must be nice to be a kid, be carted around, throw temper tantrums and no one thinks twice about it, have your meals prepared for yah, and have pretty girls serve you drinks. Sign me up. A man has to pay good money to get that kinda treatment. In fact that's probably why people can physically not remember anything before the age of three, because if we remembered how much we were doted on as children, we would probably all be incredibly entitled sons-of-a-bitches." He grinned encouragingly at her as if waiting for her to concur with his observation. In all honesty she was still fixated on the part about pretty girls serving drinks. She served Jax drinks! Was that a compliment?

Jack took the juice bottle from her hand, "What do we have here?" He un-screwed the top of the sippy-cup and smelled it contents. "Yum! Apple juice! My favorite!" He secured the lid back in place.

Jax was now frozen watching Jack very carefully, transfixed by the man older man, not quite sure if he liked where this was going. Jack raised the cup to his lips in mock drink.

"Mmmm, that's good!" He pulled the cup away from his mouth and pretended to swallow, exaggeratedly wiping his lips with the back his hand.

Jax stared wide eyed in disbelief. If the young boys face had a caption it would be 'who does this guy think he is?' A moment went by before the jealousy sunk in. "Mine!" He desperately clawed for Jack.

"Yours?" Jack inquired. "But I thought you didn't want juice?" It was a question rather than a statement.

Jax's little eyebrows knitted together in apprehension. "But. . . I. But . . . I, I wants the jufce now?" His was a question as well.

"Well sharing is caring. You remember that for preschool." And with that Jack bent down and released the locking mechanism on the stroller's lap belt, freeing Jax. For a moment Ella almost became angry, Jack had seen her tell the boy he was not allowed out of the stroller. However the feeling was quickly misplaced by concern for what she realized was about to happen. Jack placed either hand under Jax's armpits and hoisted him up out of the stroller, managing to keep the juice cup in his right hand as he did it. Ella prepared herself for the worst. But Jax allowed it to happen astonished by the new height. When he was finally situated on his the man's left hip he turned to study him. His eyes narrowed by curiosity. Still unsure of the situation, he took in Jacks face.

Then without warning his small little hand rose to Jacks face, chubby pointer finger extended the other fingers curled into a fist. "Owie!" He poked Jacks bottom lip running his finger over it.

Ella cringed. Leave it to a child to have complete unabashed honesty.

"Ouch!" Jack drew his head back from Jax's touch in jest, the little boys eyes went wide with concern.

Jax leaned forward just as quick and with as little warning as before and gave Jack a kiss, missing the scar slightly and hitting his chin. It was Jacks turn to be thrown off guard. He recovered quickly though. "Thank you! That feels better already."

Jax looked mighty pleased with himself and his doctor abilities. "Here," Jack handed the child his juice bottle. "Something to wash the bad taste out of your mouth." The joke went over Jax's head, but it did not prevent him from eagerly thrusting the sippy-cup to his lips.

"He likes you," Ella offered up. "He normally doesn't. . ."

"Kiss strangers?" Jack interjected, giving Jax a quick squeeze.

Ella laughed, the sound harsh like a bark, "Definitely not." They stood outside a few more minutes and exchanged pleasantries. But with the night falling fast and the desire for a walk, before it got to late, impending, they parted. Him back to his work, in which he apparently did a lot of from his home, while Jax and Ella headed towards the newer part of the subdivision for a quick stroll.

The new homes were the product of seamless manufactured beauty, but Ella felt they lacked the authenticity that her small modest home possessed. She was the last person with a true tree as well. A grand old oak stood proudly in the unkempt front yard, blocking the majority of the house from the view of the street. The other trees in the neighborhood had been logged during the pre-production of the building. This action made absolutely no sense to her, considering the housing development then spent an enormous amount of money on landscaping, and the re-planting of saplings.

She strode along the side walk breathing in the crisp night air. Debating on whether or not she should go to Jack's barbeque. She would not know anyone there and it was not as if Jack and she were incredibly close. And while these factors did not serve as a huge deterrent, they also did not serve as motivators. Finally she opted for bouncing the idea off Matilda. Although truth be told, Ella knew what the decision was already going to be.


	3. Chapter 3

_Authors note: Alright this is marks the first real chapter, in my mind. The other two were just precursors. We finally got the ball rolllin'! Make sure you read carefully, lots of small details for further plot development! Thanks yah all!_

IMPORTANT NOTIFICATION! It has just been brought to my attention after editing chapter two, and half way thru three. That Heath Ledger had a daughter and her name is Matilda! The Matilda in this fan fiction DOES NOT and is not in any way, shape or form modeled after his daughter. I was not even aware of this until I was reading an article on him, and his sudden death after his role as The Joker, and she was mentioned. The Matilda in my story was taken from the 1996 movie Matilda. Which I used to watch as a kid all the time, and loved, watch if you haven't seen. I adore the name and the character is actually modeled after me as a child. So just for clarification I will be posting this note at the beginning of any chapter that Matilda appears in, is mentioned in, and I will have it on my profile as well. I would just change the name but I am already 29 pages in. In which she appears frequently. And I really think the name fits. I just wanted to be sure everyone was aware there is absolutely NO CORRELATION between the two. That would just be weird. It just happens to be a really freaky conquincidence! Thank you for your understanding.

**Chapter 3**

Saturday morning Ella drove, Jax and Matilda to the super mart, in order to pick up some ingredients to make cookies. As they pulled into the grocery store parking lot Matilda eagerly jumped out of the van to retrieve a cart. She had been ecstatic ever since yesterday when she came over, as usual, to watch Jax while Ella was at work. After proclaiming there was no way they were going to decline this invitation. She had not so kindly informed Ella of her apparent rudeness to not offer to bring a dish.

_"He invited you to his house, offered to feed you, your kid, and best friend," She beamed at reference to herself. "And you couldn't even offer to bring dessert! No offence El but your social cluelessness is moderate to severe retarded." _

This was why a last minute trip to accrue cookie ingredients was deemed top priority. Because in all honesty Ella would rather be doing what she normally did on Saturday mornings at this time, watching cartoons with Jax, and eating Cinnamon Toast Crunch out of a too big bowl.

Instead she was traipsing around the grocery store with Jax attempting to pull every glass item off the isle shelves, and Matilda enlightening her as to the stinginess of the overused sugar cookies dessert idea. In the end sugar cookies won out, because they were easy, and Ella was the one with the money. They did however spring for the cream cheese frosting and some food coloring. And Matilda managed to convince Ella to buy a bag full of Halloween themed cookie cutters.

She realized that Jack had not given her a time to come over. So they judged the start time based on the arrival of others. After several cars had accumulated in the driveway and on the curb, Ella loaded up Jax, Matilda grabbed the plate of cookies and they ventured across the lawn towards the open front door. Several people were milling about the porch talking boisterously, bouts of laughter rising in crescendo before cutting off abruptly, only to surge again. She did not recognize any of them, just as she had suspected. She thought she might have identified one of the men as a neighbor from several streets over, who she had seen a couple times while walking, but she could not be certain.

Matilda confirmed her suspicion, "That's Mister Gibbs from a few streets over. That guys an asshole. He called the cops on Mike and Gabe several years back, when they'd gotten a hold of a couple M80s and were setting them off in buckets over at the old development site." Mike and Gabe were Matilda's middle brothers. Born eleven months apart they were practically twins, did everything together, which meant twice the amount of mayhem for the neighborhood.

They approached with caution like prey, as if they feared alerting the predators positioned atop the porch. It was not until they reached the final side walk square. That the assembly noticed them, they were met with blank stares.

Mister Gibbs spoke first, "Matilda, How are you?" He eyed the girl up and down, in shrewd disapproval. The child could tell him she was practicing non-profit work for recovering battered woman, and it was obvious he would still remained unimpressed with her character. This notion irritated Ella. Matilda was only twelve, and she might be a little rough around the edges but she was a good kid, and just that, a kid.

"Fine," Matilda made no attempt to hide her contempt, shaking her long matted blond hair defiantly behind her shoulders.

The same shrewd eyes were then directed towards Ella. Only Ella was acutely aware she did not have age as an excuse, her judgment was set on full blast. "Ella isn't it?" He inquired looking between her and Jax. He did not bother querying as to Jax.

"Yes. And you are?" Ella didn't disguise her dismissive tone. She knew who he was, Matilda had just told her, but as far as Mister Gibbs knew he was nameless to her.

"Nelson Gibbs, I live several streets over, in the _newer_ housing." You could not miss the emphasis placement.

"Oh yeah, over by Huckleberry street, heard those particular set of houses have had several issues due to poor assembly." Matilda snorted at this comment. Ella could not hide the glint triumph from her eyes as she watched the superiority drain from Nelson's face, replaced with rage.

Before the conversation could become anymore heated the other members of the porch party deemed it time to introduce themselves. A man with light brown hair, which was beginning to show the signs of salt & peppering, cropped short and a thick bush mustache, who looked to be in his mid-fifties introduced himself as Malcolm. He and the other significantly younger man on the porch, a ginger headed, freckly-faced, whose skin bordered on albino coloring, were both co-workers of Jack's. The fourth a final person on the porch was a woman, who had to be in her early-thirties, her dark brown hair pulled severely back into a bun. Her dark eyes burned with intensity managing to offset her caramel skin. When she introduced herself her voice was level, with an undercurrent of demand. She was not rude, but stern. The type of woman whom it was worthless arguing with, your demands would fall on deaf ears. She was Joan Leland an intern at the infamous Arkham Asylum, instantly Ella liked her.

"Arkham?!" Matilda sounded captivated, "Isn't that like where, they send all them crazies! Who done really bad shit?!" Ella really wished Matilda would watch her language more. Not that she minded if the young girl swore, but the last thing she needed was Jax learning his new favorite word.

"It is a rehabilitation center for those who have made life decisions that have drastically affected others or themselves in a negative way, and do not have the cognitive ability, either at the time of the incident, or ever, to recognize the weight of their actions." Her tone of voice was laced with education.

Matilda stared at her blankly. After a few seconds, Joan spoke again. "Yes, it is where we house the crazies."

"Oh," Matilda nodded. "Cool. What's like the craziest thing you've seen?" She inquired excitedly.

"Okay, another time." Ella interrupted, "The last thing Jax needs is nightmares."

"He'll be fine," Matilda said dismissively. "You should see the stuff he watches on late night with me."

Ella shot her a disapproving look, but before she could comment though a familiar voice wafted towards them. Jack strode towards the group through the open door, making his way through what looked to be the living room. Today he wore a solid violet dress shirt the top two buttons undone and the sleeves casually rolled up to the forearms, exposing the bottom dark edges of a tattoo, attempting to reveal itself, on the inner left forearm. The shirt was loosely tucked into a pair of fitted khakis, held up by a thick plain dark brown belt.

"Aye, glad you could make it." He beamed at them, beckoning them inside, as he clogged the doorway with his immense frame. Ella wondered to herself if he had to order custom pants due to his height.

"Yeah we weren't sure what time, so we kinda just meandered our way over here as we saw people arriving." She suddenly realized how desperate and creeper that statement sounded, like she had waited around her house all day, gazing longingly out the window awaiting the trickling arrival of others.

If he though it odd he gave no indication, "Well don't worry you haven't missed much. The woman folk are just in the kitchen working on the some side dishes. And the rest of us manly men are out back grilling. And the not so manly men are out here on my porch," He looked between them and finished his statement, "drinkin'." He grinned cheekily.

"Watch yourself, boy." Malcolm piped up. "I have done my far share many a times over when it comes to barbequin'. It's time to pass the baton to the younger generation." He took a swig of his Blue Moon.

"Fair enough," Jack held his hand up in mock surrender a glint of amusement behind the deep green of his irises.

"And I am not a man, and if I was I certainly would not be a _non_-manly one." Joan shot Jack a shrewd glance.

"You are a special kinda woman Joan," he winked at her playfully and she rolled her eyes in return. "You're one of a kind that's why I didn't lump yah in with those housewives or these idlers."

"Your projection and displacement in order to weasel yourself out of potentially volatile situation never ceases to amaze me Jackson Napier." She took a sip of her beer and smiled. They stared at each other for a brief moment as if both indulging in some inside joke. Abruptly Jack turned to acknowledge them. "Well you're welcome to join us inside or out back." He motioned inside.

Matilda took the initiative and moved from their established square on the sidewalk and up the porch, Jack stepped aside to allow her in, and Ella followed Jax in tote. Venturing into the home and leaving the individuals of the porch to return to their sporadic conversation.

They stepped into a living room which quickly alerted Ella as to Jack's favorite color, the walls were painted an eggplant. The curtains a mixture of purple and green, the lamp shades violet. You would think that the decor would scream effeminate and gaudy, yet it somehow managed to be incredibly masculine and elegant. Maybe it was balanced out by the dark, plush leather couches, which formed an L-shaped seating arrangement in the far corner. Other than the blast of purple the room looked average. A mahogany table served as a coffee table in front of the couches. And a book case was in the opposing corner of the couch, with an abundance of books on chemistry and theorems she could never begin to grasp. There was a picture of Charles Darwin, on the wall, by the entry way. A plasma screen was mounted on the wall in view of the couches and matching recliner. And a coat rack stood by the door. He offered to take hers, claiming it was supposed to be one of the last nice days they would have in a while. But Ella declined the hospitality.

"You really like purple," voiced Matilda, unabashed as always.

"It's the color of royalty. Plus I think it brings out my eyes." He goofily fluttered them at her, and taking her coat. She blushed furiously.

"It's also the color of bruises," Ella said dryly.

Jack let out a bark of laughter, "That it is." He led the way through the living room. Ella spotted a thin silver photo frame, with a smiling picture of him and Darcie on the end table, beside the couch. She couldn't keep herself from feeling a flutter of emotion, whom some might catalog as envy rear up.

The living room transitioned into a partial dining room, which connected the kitchen and living room. For additional seating a bar had been added with several stools. The kitchen was state of the art everything stainless steel, the stove top was one of those flat top burners, they had a soda maker, and a two door fridge with an extra pull out compartment in the base. A beautiful wine rack was mounted against the far wall; the cupboards were painted black which transitioned nicely with the granite counter tops. In the center of the kitchen was a large island. Which was chockfull of various dishes, the woman were standing around it sipping wine and grazing on the appetizers, while preparing the courses to go with the meal. They varied in age, but none of them seemed younger than early thirties. She suddenly felt as if they had entered a Rachel Ray cooking show filmed in Pleasantville. Despite the state of the art look the kitchen had a homey feel to it. She wasn't sure if it was because of all the mother hens clucking about dutifully, or if it was because of the large bay windows and sliding glass door which led into the backyard, allowing the sunlight to pour in and illuminate the steel work.

There were seven of them in total. A couple she recognized from the neighborhood. The rest were unidentifiable to her. Other than Darcie, whom sat perched upon a bar stool with a large wine glass, swirling around its red contents, and picking at a small plate of assorted fruit. She was either slightly inebriated or was just pretending to not know them, because there was no recognition in her baby blues.

However it only took a few moments before the rest of them noticed. Older woman are like peanut butter when it comes to babies, and babies are the bread. They cling to them. Once applied it is impossible to remove.

"OH! Who's this little cutie PIE!" One of the oldest women in a floral print blouse, with short permed strawberry blonde hair, squinty eyes and a kind mouth, who bore a striking resemblance to Kitty Forman from _That 70's Show_ was the first to notice. Her voice became high and her features delicate, like they always do when confronting children.

"Hi there," She spoke again her exuberance bordering of contagious. She crept forward and shook Jax's plump little hand with her thumb and index finger. Jax only stared at her, his face someplace between hesitation and total disbelief at his luck.

Ella almost laughed. Her son was not one for social gatherings. That's when the cooing, oohing, ahhing and awing started. They swarmed like bees to a honey comb.

_"Hi there, sweetie." "Oh, he's so cute!" "Can I hold him?" "How old is he?" "Is his dad here?" "You're young to be a mom aren't you?" "Is he going to daycare? I can babysit him if you ever need a sitter!" _There were so many bombardments Ella did not even know which ones came from whom.

"Ladies, Ladies, Ladies." Jacks low rumble of a voice smoothly rose over the high squawking caws of the women. He held his hands up to conduct silence. "The little lad is not going anywhere. Why don't we let them settle in first before letting the persecution commence."

Ella turned and graciously thanked Jack, silently, with her eyes. He returned it with a small nod of acceptance. "Well dollface," He gently clapped Matilda on the back of the shoulder. "Why dontch_yah _go put those of the picnic table outside. It's where we got the other deserts lined up." Matilda nodded eagerly, offering a rare genuine smile to grace her petite features.

"Yes, love and then when you are done you can come and help me finish washing the lettuce and prepping the salad," called one of the women over the running water of the faucet, who had diligently returned to her task, after her scolding. Matilda looked less than thrilled about that idea, but she knew better to than to argue in mixed company. They were vastly outnumbered. Instead she opted for taking her time as she went about her initial task.

Jack led Matilda out the back door only to have her remerge after several moments and set about her assignment at the sink. It was only a few minutes later that Matilda and the woman she prepped the salad with, began to speak about Matilda's school, friends and brothers. Then it was just Ella and Jax standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen as the others milled about.

After a couple more appropriately awaited moments a lady in her mid-forties approached cautiously, "Could I hold him? He's just adorable. My daughter is pregnant. And I am so excited!" Her eyes began to widen and she wringed her hands together in anticipation. "They aren't going to find out the sex though. They are gonna do one of those blind births. So they have to do completely gender neutral colors . . ."

_'Here knock yourself out' _Ella thought to herself. The lady's enthusiasm was enough to warrant the unusual behavior of entrusting Jax to a stranger, plus she just wanted to get out of that kitchen. She handed Jax over to the woman, '_Thanks a lot mom.' _His pouty bottom lip conveyed his shrewd disapproval, glaring at her, thoroughly un-amused by the change of events. _ 'Sorry son sometimes you have to take one for the team. One day when you have a kid you'll get the same perks.' _

"NO!" He put up a resistance, twisting like a contortionist, but after several calming words of reassurance and an apple slice dipped in caramel he succumbed to his knew caretaker.

For a brief moment Ella debated going over to the bar and trying to strike up a conversation with Darcie. But that moment passed, quickly. Instead she made her way outside. The deck was large and shaped like a diamond, completely railed in, other than an opening where the steps descended into the backyard. In one of the larger corners of the diamond against the house sat a covered hot tub. Parallel the hot tub in the other wide angle, a picnic table had been drug up on the deck, ornamented with beautiful deserts. Suddenly Ella heard Matilda's voice in the back of her mind, chastening her for her choice of sugar cookies. That little brat was always right. A wrought iron table chairs with cushions offered further seating. The grill was at the narrow junction of the diamond overlooking the yard below, which slopped down violently ending in a thick row of bushes, serving as a make shift fence. The men were sitting in the patio furniture, sipping on beer and chatting in a low murmur.

Ella scanned the crowd. The male to female ratio seemed to be equivalent so she assumed most were spouses. She eyed Jack; he stood at the grill, speaking animatedly to an older man. She debated approaching him but realized it would be rude to interrupt. Instead she strayed over to the desert table and examined it. Cheesecakes, pumpkin pies, lemon tarts, a chocolate cake skillfully decorated like a graveyard. And then there, at the end, sat the plate of homemade sugar cookies sloppily frosted like pumpkins, ghosts and bats.

"Hello," A voice drew her attention away from the table. She looked up, startled, not expecting to encounter anyone who would attentively seek out a conversation with her. A younger man with wide brimmed glasses, tousled light brown hair, and large wide set blue eyes, was the voices owner. He was shorter, perhaps only an inch or so taller than her. He was skinny, as well, intensifying his elfin features.

Ella took all this in a matter of milliseconds. "Hi. I am Ella." She decided to make the effort for once.

"Tristan. You're Jack's neighbor right?" Something about the fact he knew who she was struck her as odd on a subconscious level, but she dismissed it, without full acknowledgement.

"Yeah," She smiled a sweet smile of relief. Just glad she finally had someone to speak with, even if it was the nerd guy at the party.

"I work with Jack at the plant." After that brief introduction, he launch into a huge explanation of his job. He worked as a code programmer for various data entry. Apparently he designed programs that helped store and navigate the information housed at the plant more thoroughly. Ella could barely get a word in. He offered her a drink, and before she could refuse, he had disappeared and reappeared with a drink in tow, he thrust the cool refreshment in her hands, before launching into another spiel about a prospect of a promotion on the horizon.

"Aye," she felt a hand lay to rest on her shoulder and a large presence looming behind her. "Tristan's a little overzealous at times." She heard the recognizable chuckle. "But that's why we entrust him with all the documentation of the important data." Jack raised his beer with the other hand. Ella was still acutely aware of his other hand resting nonchalantly on her shoulder. He was unbelievably hot, almost as if he was burning her. But it couldn't actually be the temperature of his skin that emanated the heat. It had to be a psychological reaction rather than a physiological one.

Tristan's face beamed at Jack's words. However if it had been Ella on the receiving end of that statement she would of interpreted its connotation slightly differently. Before Tristan could open his mouth to speak again she felt a gentle pressure against her shoulder steering her in the opposite direction, she allowed her body to be directed, finding herself facing Jack. He gracefully spun away and led her from the prior conversation, his hand never leaving her shoulder. They strode across the deck, back towards the grill. She had to put a little pep in her step to keep up with his long strides.

"Sorry about that," He murmured to her. "I really promise we're a livelier crew than what you've observed so far." He picked up a knife and began to set about the task of expertly trimming the steaks. She watched his hand manipulate the meat for a moment.

"Why remove it?" she blurted out before her filter had a chance to assess the importance of the question.

"Because one rule about the way steaks cook is that the fat will shrink faster than the meat. This can cause the fat to fold or compress the meat. This pressure can squeeze out the juices and make the steak more difficult to eat. So, occasionally you might want to trim a steak to make it cook better. Of course, the fat is important to the flavor of a steak so it best not to cut it all off. It's kind of an art form knowing how much to take." He removed a thin strip of white fat.

"I just usually throw it in the pan…" Was her short response to his extended monologue.

"Well not everyone can be a natural chief Gordon Ramsay's." He jested.

"Hey . . . I resent that." She had managed to cook for Jax and herself just fine, and Perry when he was alive and often times Matilda now.

"Well then, why don't you just season this," he pointed towards the pile of already trimmed streaks with the knife. "And _throw it _on the grill then." He replied.

"Unless you all wanna eat well _well_ done steak, I would reevaluate your request." Ella spat back. She had no concept of appropriate cooking time.

He sighed exasperatedly. "Think you can handle this part?" He nods to the cutting board, without warning expertly flipping the blade in his hand, to extend the hilt to her by seizing the blade between his thumb and the side of the index finger. The action caused her to jump slightly and drew a small smile to dance across his face.

"Show off." She muttered. She took the blade carefully from his hand. She had never been all that great with a knife. And that was about to become all too evident.

"Here," He removed his apron. That up until now, she hadn't realized he'd been wearing. She caught a whiff of his scent as he placed it over her head; he smelled clean, like spring green soap and laundry detergent. His finger grazed the back of her neck as he gently tugged her hair out from under the strap. She suppressed a shiver. He then proceeded to tie the back.

She looked down at the apron to see the cartoonish, garish drawing of a chief with words: KISS THE COOK, scrawled across it.

"And how, do you even know how to do that?!" Ella attempted to bring the attention away from her overactive body, and back to the prior incident. "No one just knows how to just do stuff like that!" She attempted to spin around and talk to him while he was tying. "That's like something out of a movie. It's a cheap party trick to pick up chicks! Or something you learn in the ghetto." She said the final one as a side note.

He laughed. "Maybe I was a boyscout when I was just a wee lad! And I practiced a hundred times a day." He turned and tossed the just seasoned steaks onto the grill, the sound of the sizzle and the aroma, triggered her hunger.

"Do they have a boyscout for adolescents after 12?" She stabbed at the steak in front of her attempting to manipulate the meat, but becoming far too distracted by the texture of it.

He stared at her blankly for a moment, before realization set. An entertained smirk set across his lips. "Naturally," he shrugged in consistency to his prior statement the evening before.

"Since you didn't exist before 12," she finished for him. His hooded eyes slid over to meet hers. Not bothering to adjust his body, he stood square, facing the grill. He gazed down at her out of the corner of his eye. The crook of his mouth visibly upturned. She mirrored his stance, staying squared to her project, left hand still gripping the knife. The only difference was she looked up at him out of the corner of her eye, cocking the visible eyebrow in response. His green eyes were hypnotic, and half concealed behind his lids, they refused to offer any secrets, but tempted you, all the same. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, suddenly the weight of the knife in her sweaty palm became evident, and she felt the familiar lurch of her heart as it thud loudly, once, to indicate the quickening of her pulse. For the first time ever Ella understood what the cliché _'able to get lost in someone's eyes' _finally meant and she tore her gaze away quickly before it truly happened. She thought she saw his smile broaden in triumph, but she could not be certain, as she busily redirected herself with her task.

She sawed at the meat for a couple more moments twisting it, turning it, pulling it.

"That's not even a serrated knife why are you sawing?"

"Here, hold it like this." He moved behind her and curled his hand around hers. "Ahhh, a lefty." He adjusted her hand so she no longer fisted the hilt of the knife. Instead her thumb rested on the inside of the steel blade her index finger on the outside. "It should be like an extension of your arm. The tip shouldn't leave the board unless necessary. It's the food that you manipulate. And you never lay your hands fingers exposed, like this." With his other hand he rolled her fingertips under. The action brought him in direct contact with her back, as his broad form encompassed hers. She felt his belt buckle digging into the lower part of her back. And she warded off unholy thoughts.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe and she was acutely aware of the situation. She wondered what this looked like to others. Probably exactly what it was Jack just giving her a nonchalant lesson on proper cutting technique. He wasn't out of line, but her mind certainly was. Yet for some reason Ella dreaded the potential reaction of Darcie, who sat a few feet away, shielded only by the hustle and bustle of the kitchen. Perhaps she felt guilty because to her it felt right. She dismissed the yearning and concentrated on his instruction.

"Keep your knuckles against the side of the blade with your fingertips curled under, that way they work as a shield and you will never cut yourself." He demonstrated on the cutting board by gliding the knife back and forth thru an imaginary sustenance. The steel felt cool against her knuckles.

"I think you're ready for the real thing." He pulled one of the steaks out of the Styrofoam and plastic sales wrapper. The first one he guided her through the knife slide effortlessly thru the fat.

"Alright give it a try." He took a small step back and released her hands, instantly the temperature she'd been experiencing dropped a full ten degrees. However he did not completely move from behind her, instead he hovered over her shoulder like an expectant teacher waiting to see if their lesson was absorbed.

Ella drew in a ragged breath. For some ridiculous reason she was nervous. She did not want him to think her an idiot. Luckily she performed wonderfully.

"There yah go. Now yah got the hang of it. Will have yah shucking oysters and filleting fish before yah know it" He gave her quick pat on the back accompanied with a wink. She grinned despite herself. She loved praise, as much as she hated to admit it. With his lesson complete he stepped away from her to tend the grill. With nothing left to cut and the conversation at a standstill, she stood around awkwardly for a couple more minutes, as not to seem rude before making her way back inside to check on Jax and Matilda.

Matilda by now had been recruited to orange peeling. But she wore a cheery mask. Bless her heart. She was going to throw a fit later. Ella sought out Jax, finding him in the living room plopped on the plush couch between two ladies. He seemed content being the object of the women's desire as long as they kept feeding him the sweet treats. Ella inwardly sighed he would be wound up like a top all night; she'd have to knock him out with Benadryl. Not that she had ever done it, or actually would, but she heard it worked wonders.

Instead of making her presence known she ventured down a narrow side hallway. She was lead away from the living quarters towards what could only assume was the bedrooms. The first room had been converted into an office space. Papers were strewn about in an unorganized fashion. A thin flat screen computer took up much of the desk space. Underneath housed the monitor and a sliding keyboard. There was nothing on the walls in this room, and other than the essential office equipment and a small sofa pushed against the wall, the room was barren.

Ella continued down the hallway listening to the flop of her sandals on the hardwood flooring. It was obvious the house was new; due to the minimal creaks from her weight as she wandered along.

The second door on the right was a linen closet. Full of thick nude colored towels and colorful bed sheets as well as a few spare blankets. Directly across from the linen closet was the guest bathroom flamboyantly decorated in coral colors, with pictures of rare fish, and an octopus immaculately framed. The hallway then took a sharp 90 degree turn to the left becoming a shorter passage ending in an open door, which she could only assume was the master bedroom. Suddenly, instinctually she looked around, the familiar sense of guilt registering as a bout of paranoia.

The distant sounds of the woman could still be heard from the kitchen and no one was proceeding down the hallway behind her. Cautiously she crept forward; she paused for a moment outside the door staring into the room. With a second glance behind, for reassurance, she crossed the threshold.

The room was painted beige with a pumpkin accent wall behind the enormous four-poster bed. The hardwood floor extended into this room unlike the other, which was carpeted, a large festive rug had been placed over it, to induce warmth. Much of the furniture was dark wood including a dresser and matching wardrobe, there was no closet in the room. The closed door to the right could only be the master bath. She treaded further in her feet arriving on the carpet. Ella looked around taking her the surroundings. The room was average, just like every other part of the house. She felt slightly disappointed.

The most bizarre thing in the room was potentially the marked copy of _A Clockwork Orange_ by Anthony Burgess setting on the bedside table. She scampered across the copious rug and came to a halt by the left hand side of the bed. She noted that the covers on this side were disturbed, despite the hurried attempt at making the bed. Ella also couldn't help but notice the other side seemed uniformed and undisrupted. Prudently she sat down on the edge of the luxurious bed, idly running her hands over the comforter.

It was an old copy of the book the dust jacket was the original, and it was worn by excessive reading. She had never read it. The book had been banned from her school library and she had, had no interest in the movie. A soft clinking and a gently breeze could be felt on the back of her neck and she looked up to see a ceiling fan spinning rapidly. Gazing around she envied the window seat, for nice days spent reading wrapped up in a blanket while the rain beat against the outside glass.

It was time to return to the party. Her nosey escapade was over. Rising from the bed she made her way across the floor as she was about to round the corner and emerge down the longer hallway, back towards the party, she heard a shrill voice ring out from dangerously close around the corner.

"Just gimme a moment," the woman answered in response to whomever she was speaking. Ella instantly identified the voice as none other than Darcie's. She felt her stomach plummet and her heart skyrocket. She did not have much time to react in desperation she ran back towards the bedroom and tried to nestle herself between the alcove of the open door and the wall, not wanting to risk being trapped in the room. In case Darcie needed the bathroom and there was no closet. Much to her delight she was met by the appearance of another door set into the walk, directly behind the open bedroom one. Quickly she tried the knob. It was locked, anxiety threatened to suffocate her out of a desperate plea she tried one more time this time with a little force. The knob did not twist but the door popped open from improper closure.

What met her eyes almost made her consider taking her chances against the dragon lady. A steep rudimentary staircase transcended down into blackness. The basement. She looked at the visible walls, no switch. After a brief moment of debate she did what every dumb girl at the beginnings of a horror movie does. She stepped down into the darkness and closed the door, making sure not to shut it all the way, as to not lock herself in. She stood on the top step the door handle in hand, engulfed in darkness. She listened carefully as she heard the clank of high heels growing dangerously close. Until they were almost on top of her and then fading away, diminished completely by what could only be the rug.

Ella stood stark still keenly aware of the darkness behind her. A low hum could be heard from somewhere below her in the darkness. A hot water heater, maybe? She attempted to keep her mind focused on focusing on Darcie's movements, rather than allow her imagination to try and concoct the terrors that laid mere feet away; it was proving to be a struggle though. It seemed an eternity until she heard the woman emerge and retreat to a safe enough distance to allow Ella a proper exit.

However with the threat of being caught gone curiosity embed away at the back of her mind. And after all it was just a basement, look what she did for a job. There could not possibly be anything more horrific than that down there. Well . . . She hoped not. She had learned nothing was ever impossible, only improbable. She was rooted in place by deliberation, her hand still resting on the door handle. Conversely the rest of her torso turned towards the darkness. Warily she took one step down, then two, then three feeling along the way for a source of light. A fleeting thought crossed her mind that perhaps there was an animal down here, and they had put it away because it did not respond well to strangers, but she dismissed the notion. She had never seen an animal or heard one in the several months they had been neighbors. With each step the humming grew slightly louder.

She kept her right hand on the unfinished railing, using her left to grope for a switch. Knowing she had reached the bottom when she stepped onto the ground and then went to take another step down, almost falling over due to even concrete flooring and misinterpreted distancing between steps.

She noted a severe drop in temperature and suppressed a shiver. Now at the bottom and still no luck with the light, she began to fill a little uneasy, turning around slightly she couldn't make out the stairs for a retreat. All she could see was the tiny sliver of light creeping in through cracked door not potent enough to lend any lighting. Finally her hand arrived on an exposed switch mounted against a support beam. The dim lighting flickered, and then rose to life flooding the room with illumination. To reveal a full basement filling the entire area under the house, an exact one-hundred percent underground mirror to the home's footprint. The walls had been demolished leaving only the support beams intact.

You would not even know that the wall had not been finished if it weren't for the three of the four brick walls covered in immense bookshelves that sporadically allowing bits of brick to peep through. The book cases rose from the floor to the ceiling, blocking several half windows, they were gorged full of literature. Not a single space was un-occupied. Little bits of old newspaper clippings were sticking out from between spines, shreds of paper stuck out of the tops of the books in an array of colors of vibrant colors. Ella took a step forward towards one of the shelves not sure where to begin, there was no way Jack had read all these books. Someone could spend a life time attempting to read all these and not succeed. And yet as she ran her hand along the spines each was worn and full of little markers. She stopped when a certain newspaper clipping caught her eye.

She tilted her head to the side. Taking in the date: December 28th 2012 , that was five days before Perry died. _THE GOTHAM TIMES _she pulled the newspaper from its cozy little nest on the shelf, so she could see the entire article lead._ Armed Robbery of Gotham's beloved: Victoria's Engagement and Bridal Estimated loss 125,000. _She didn't bother with the rest of the article. She remembered when the jewelry store had been robbed; it about caused the rich old ladies of Wayne Enterprises seniority crowd to lose their marbles. Children are abused, woman are raped and men are killed every day in the streets of Gotham, and that is considered normal, but rob the oldest and most beloved jewelry store and shit just got real.

As she began to refold the article and return it to its place, a red and blue marking was revealed on the opposite side by chance of light. She flipped it over. A much smaller article was written down at the bottom left hand corner; however it was the only thing on the back page that had not been clipped thru. Anxiously she flipped it back over to the title article and scrolled down realizing that it too had been clipped halfway thru.

The smaller article read: _Who wants to live forever?_

_ A biomedical gerontologist and chief chemist for the head of the board at Ace Chemicals is leading a competent team in research, he reckons within his own lifetime doctors could have all the tools they need to "decisively cure" aging - banishing diseases that come with it and extending life indefinitely._

_"And what is meant by a decisive control factor is the same sort of medical control that we have over most infectious diseases today."_

_The team hopes to see a time when people will go to their doctors for regular "maintenance," which by then will include gene therapies, stem cell therapies, and an immunization, that is in its developmental stages now, which would prove to prevent the accumulation of various types of molecular and cellular damage throughout the body._

_"The idea is to engage in what you might call preventative geriatrics, where you go in to periodically repair that molecular and cellular damage before it gets to the level of abundance that is pathogenic, by using a sort of suspended reanimation." _

_All though there is still a lot up in the air with research and grants, the citizens of Gotham can rest a little more peacefully knowing that perhaps immortality is just a few good night sleeps away. _

She finished reading the article and the first thought that struck her was, great, now people could live forever and terrorize one another for an eternity. Living forever sounded like a cruel punishment. She scanned over the areas highlighted in red and blue. There were two phrases _suspended reanimation _wasmarked in redand _control factor _in blue. However as far as she could tell that was it, she was about to place the paper back between the two books when the spines of either book caught her eye. One read _Beloved short stories by H.P. Lovecraft_ she pulled the book from its perch. The other she needn't even read the title she recognized its gold trim and paper thin pages as the passages from her Sunday school mornings. _The Bible. _They seemed like two completely separate books to have placed together; then again perhaps they had just been strewn about on the shelves in the moving process. However something about Jack told Ella that he was not one to, strewn things about.

She was about to lose interest when a red piece of construction paper fluttered down from within the confines of the book. She knelt down and scooped it up. Flipping it over she eyed it conspicuously. On the back were the number E17, W28, J36. Ella opened the book hoping to find the place to rightfully return it to, but the pages were not marked. The only other means of markings were different multi-colored papers all reading separate numbers, much like the misplaced one, some numbers reaching into the high thousands. Flipping to the front she scoured the table of contents for some sort of hint, one the short stories in the book was _Reanimator_. She looked between the article and the book flipping to the assigned page.

The top of the page read:_ From the Dark_. The story was accompanied by beautiful gothic art. Ella skimmed thru to get the gist of the story; 'Herbert West had recently disappeared. The narrator of the story went on to explain how he had met West when they were both young men in medical school, and the narrator became fascinated by West's theories, which postulated that the human body is simply a complex, organic machine, which could be "restarted." West initially tries to prove this hypothesis, but is unsuccessful. West realizes he must experiment on human subjects. The two men spirit away numerous supplies from the medical school and set up shop in an abandoned farmhouse. At first, they pay a group of men to rob graves for them, but none of the experiments are successful. West and the narrator go into grave robbing for themselves. One night, West and the narrator steal a corpse who died just that morning in an accident. They take it back to the farmhouse and inject it with West's solution, but nothing happens. There comes an inhuman scream from the room with the corpse as the two students instinctively flee into the night.'

The entire short story is marked in red. On an assumption she positioned the red piece of paper back on the starting page of the story and slipped it back on the shelf. She withdrew the bible off the shelf next and examined its colorations; a piece of blue construction paper was fixed protruding out of the top. She removed it on a hunch it was also lettered and numbered. V125, M83, D315. Running her hands down the rice thin paper, she noted a single passage was highlighted in blue ink: Genesis 1:27: 'So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.'

Ella frowned looking perplexed between the article the passage and the second piece of construction paper. Placing all items back where she found them she persisted in her search. A sense of wonderment fell over her as she ran her hands over the ceaseless shelves of books. Removing article after article from its designated place she thoroughly examined it, by the fourth or fifth one she was beginning to notice a pattern emerging. The newspaper clippings were varied in subject matter but they all contained numerous colored highlighting. And the books the clippings were wedged between happened to have at least one, if not more, of the same colored paper as the markings. However the most confounding thing was there were other colored papers emerging from the books as well that had seemingly nothing to do with the articles.

It was some kind sort of giant means of organization for information she realized. Only it was undecipherable to anyone, almost as if it were a vast encoded algorithm. Jack was either brilliant or insane. But whatever the reason behind his odd behavior one did not simply go to this much trouble to conceal senseless information.

Ella gave up on her investigation of the novels, having arrived at the conclusion it was beyond her deciphering skill set. Instead she studied the objects that she could fathom. The sleep couch which had been pulled out into a bed, the covers were haphazardly thrown on, its pervious sleeper not bothering with sheets had slept directly on the mattress using a single naked pillow without a sham. A lap top was charging, propped up on the arm of the sofa. A white board on wheels was covered in ink, with numbers and lettering that would never be anything more than that to her. But probably yield the secrets of life to those that could fathom.

The fourth and final wall rested behind an immense desk, a small miniature refrigerator, and a large hexagon steel container. The wall had been converted into a giant bulletin board by securing large pieces of cork to it. It was littered with various pictures, none seeming to correlate with one another, just like everything else.

Some items she could recognize there purposes, as they bubbled away nosily on the desk the contents neon in color. She had only had one semester of chemistry in high school but she recognized the majority of the items. Beakers, test tubes, a Bunsen burner, droppers, watch glasses, evaporating dishes, wire brushes and forceps were a few of the items she could identify. There were many more advanced items that went beyond her identification, such as what looked to be a huge Erlenmeyer flask, set on a low simmer with several spiraling tubes emanating from it into smaller vials. The color in each vial varied in vividness and intensity but they were all derivatives of the same neon pink.

She suddenly felt very uneasy and spun around, nothing. Perhaps it had not been the wisest idea poking around in another person's home. She had not even taken into consideration the oddity of her feelings of entitlement to idly browse through someone else personal possessions. It was her jobs fault; she was so accustom to casually entering an individual's prior place of residence she had been desensitized to the rules of common courteousness. Still, what the hell was Jack doing down here? She argued with her conciseness, before she could chalk her unearthing up to an accidental discovery. However if she continued to snoop it would cross over into premeditation. Eventually the devil on her shoulder won out with curiosity, and she edged nearer for a better look.

Several vials were corked and stored in a test tube rack on the edge of the desk. Delicately she picked one up and examined it. It was labeled with a sloppy handwritten scrawl written directly on the glass with sharpie: SerumX: 215. The others read the same, only the number differed 216, 217, 218, 219 ect . . . And she was willing to bet that mini-fridge was not full of cola. Sure enough the petite two shelf fridge was stocked full of identical vials, fluctuating in hue across the color wheel.

The humming was identified as originating from the steel hexagon contraption. It was taller than it was wide; she ran her hands along it, it was freezing, abnormally cold even for steel. The top seemed to be electronically bolted shut. Activated by what she guessed was a small electronic key pad residing above a small temperature device that read -80. She thought she remembered something from class about various strains of viruses being freeze dried for long term storage at -80 Celsius, able to be revived and studied for future scientific purposes. That and the respirator, thick gloves and eye protection lying in a pile next to the mechanism was enough of a deterrent. She might be foolish, but she was not stupid, she dared not tamper with the apparatus.

Instead she wandered over to the laptop and opened it. It was not shut down just in sleep mode and the screen sprang to life. Ella felt a sudden pang of excitement that was quickly defused when an accompanying screen popped up demanding a password. She gave it a try, just for the hell of it, and typed in: Darcie. She could not help but feel a little bit of satisfaction at the screens reply of incorrect. With no other further knowledge of Jack's likes or dislikes she abandoned her attempts at infiltrating the laptops hard drive.

A shiver threatened to knock her from her perch on the arm of the sofa, closing the laptop; she looked around taking in her discovery. Tearing her mind from her exploration, she needed to return to the party, they would be looking for her soon, if not already. But she would be back. Of that she was certain.

_Authors note: Hopefully you read and enjoyed, a lot of important keep information to further plot development in this one. So hopefully you read it carefully! Review if you feel like, if not, then don't. Till next time! _


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